From Broken Vessel To Mafia Queen

Years ago, I threw myself in front of an assassin's bullet to protect my Mafia boss husband, leaving me nearly infertile.

He knelt in my blood, swearing I would be his only wife.

But tonight, I heard him whisper to his childhood sweetheart in Italian: "My wife is a useless vessel; only you can give the Rossi family an heir."

He thought I couldn't understand him, not knowing I used to work as an Italian translator.

He also had no idea that an eight-week-old miracle was currently growing in my womb.

Julian, you will never see your child.

I no longer want your promises. I no longer want you.

From now on, we will never cross paths again. Adieu, pour toujours.

Chapter 1

I watched my husband, Julian, pour champagne for his childhood sweetheart, hearing him murmur in Italian:

"My wife is a broken vessel, Alessia. You are the only one who can bring a healthy heir to the Rossi family, Alessia."

Alessia rested a slender hand on Julian's chest.

"Julian," Alessia whispered back in Italian, "we shouldn't talk like this. What about Sienna's feelings? She's standing right next to us."

Julian scoffed, his deep eyes sweeping over me as if I were merely a piece of furniture.

"She doesn't understand a word of Italian."

He thought I couldn't understand.

But he had no idea that I used to be an excellent Italian translator.

He also completely failed to realize that an eight-week-old little life was currently causing cramps in my lower abdomen.

Julian Rossi was not just my husband; he was the godfather of the Cosa Nostra, the most powerful Mafia syndicate on the American East Coast.

Before turning twenty-five, he had already painted the streets of Manhattan red with his enemies' blood.

He controlled politicians, judges, and a ruthless army.

His authority made even men of high status bow their heads as he passed by.

Years ago, I had used my eighteen-year-old body to block a bullet aimed at his heart by a rogue soldier.

That trauma severely damaged my uterus, leaving me practically barren.

Julian had knelt in my pool of blood at the hospital, vowing that I would be his only wife.

Now, I stood in the lavish ballroom of the Rossi estate, watching him look at Alessia with an incredibly tender gaze, a gaze that felt like a relic of a long-dead marriage.

Julian turned back to his loyal capos with Alessia, laughing and talking, building a mutual wall between me and them, isolating me in the center of my own home.

Another sharp cramp tore through my abdomen.

I gasped softly, my fingers finding the sleeve of Julian's custom-tailored suit jacket.

"Julian," I whispered, my voice trembling from the physical pain. "I need to go upstairs. I'm not feeling well."

Julian aggressively shook off my hand, his eyes full of cold impatience.

Stunned, I stared at his face, desperately searching for the man who had crowned me his Mafia Queen, the man who had